The walls talk

The 8 o'clock train reached Pattikkad station and I stepped out to feel the morning breeze in my home town. It is always a great feeling to be back home, after getting worked out in a polluted metro like Chennai. The Teek woods cover both the sides of the railway station not letting the sun to pierce through. And the early morning dew drops still hung around the leaves falling to the random gentle breeze that came by. I walked out of the platform to the auto park to reach home which is almost about a kilometer from the station.

There aren’t much people in my small home town who study outside the state, so each time I walk home with my bag pack on my back, people always looked out with a smile and always enquired about the well being outside. Walking through the lanes with broken roads cause of the last rains, I reached the sweetest place on earth where I belong, my home.

The door bell sounded more like a cuckoo who always sung the same composition, and Abbu opened the door, greeting me in, Ammi was still in kitchen preparing break fast, brother still in bed snoring and sister curled up with the blankets. I walked past to my room throwing the bag on the ground. And a moment later when I turned back the bag was well placed near the shelf. Of course mothers love their house to be clean and neat.

"Why do u always wear black? And why there is a pony on your back, and why are your jeans falling down your waist? "Those were the questions that I herd from Abbu each time he noticed my ware about." Have you said your prayers, did you brush and then come and have break fast" Ammi always yelled at the top of her voice. Those where the beautiful days when I always wanted to go home.

And now two weeks later, my study holidays began and am back home, and there is no one to open the door, I throw my bag on the ground and it still remain there when I turned back, there is no one to ask about my dressing even though I don’t have a pony on my back, even though I didn’t have a black t shirt, there are just walls around me, that echo the sounds it captured two weeks back.

My brother's bed is kept tidy, sister's blanket packed in the cupboard, their slippers kept in the shoe rack, their scent and all that Ammi left back for me lay in the house, the sweet home is no more and it feels the walls have some thing to say. Some thing that every other house, where parents fly away into the clouds leaving their kids home alone has to say.

I know there are reasons for being lonely, for being home alone, and I just wish I get over these sad memories that kill me day by day, those sounds that the walls echo.

T.R.K